Then Again

by Rick Boling

  “Not necessarily,” she said. “We estimate she’s only about six weeks old, so even if she started out with no memories or personality, she would still be acting like a young puppy just getting acquainted with her new life and surroundings. There’s no way to know one way or the other. The transmission came through yesterday morning, and since then there have been no further communications, not even a quick note of explanation.”

  “Still, it’s—”

  “Encouraging. I know. We named her Chance because that’s what she represents, a chance. I don’t mean to throw a wet blanket on things, but we have to be realistic. It’s been months since Aurie’s last message, so even if they are alive, it’s clear they’re still dealing with a lot of problems. Until we receive a direct communication—something we can confirm came from a living person—about all we can do is hope.”

  I didn’t have the energy for a prolonged debate on the matter, but I wasn’t about to let her pragmatic pessimism get to me. As far as I was concerned, their theory of some kind of automatic transmission was far less likely than the possibility that someone had been controlling things.

  “I brought some food,” Ellie said, holding up a bag. “Would you mind keeping her here for a while? She’s a little hard to deal with over at the lab, and we don’t want to put her in a cage.”

  I looked down at the now-exhausted puppy. She had scrunched up under my arm, and the warmth of her body against mine was somehow reassuring. “Chance, huh?” I said, scratching behind her ears. “Not a very hopeful sounding name. Tell you what, she can stay here for a while, but you need to find her a permanent home, so start asking around. And I’m probably going to change her name.”

  When Ellie turned to leave that morning, the puppy jumped down and tried to follow, whining and scratching at the door as it closed. She soon realized this was hopeless and ran back to paw at the side of my bed. After I helped her up, the two of us fell asleep, and when we awoke, she seemed to have forgotten all about Ellie. From then on, she clung to me like a newborn to its mother, following me everywhere and begging for attention whenever I ate or watched TV.

  I often wondered what made me decide to change her name, whether it was a flash of intuition or something less tangible, like Aurélie whispering to me across the space-time continuum. Common sense told me that couldn’t have been the case, but there was something mysterious about the decision. Though it might have been only a coincidence, some surprisingly positive things began to happen shortly after I started calling her Hope.

  As anyone who has ever trained a puppy knows, the process involves a lot of scolding, especially during the housebreaking phase. And that scolding almost always includes saying the puppy’s name. In this case, that meant repeatedly saying the word “hope,” and every time I said that word I was reminded of my conviction that Aurélie and Heyoka were still among the living. I can’t discount the therapeutic value of having a joyful, loving, canine companion, but I’m inclined to believe it was the subliminal effect of repeating her name that slowly dragged me back from the brink of suicidal depression. Whatever it was, I soon found myself looking through the lyrics I’d written, scribbling notes and making changes. I also started playing around with chord arrangements, and before long I was putting together a portfolio of new material.

  Hope turned out to be a fairly typical puppy (short memory, poor bladder control, and that pained puppy-dog expression whenever I yelled at her) so my first few attempts to convince her she should not pee in the house were frustrating. I finally decided to build her a doggie door, and after she conquered her initial fear of venturing outside alone, she caught on pretty quickly. Once we had passed that milestone, I decided she was mature enough to negotiate the trail.

  On our first trip to the stream she lagged behind for a while, but as she became more comfortable with the new environment, she began to dash ahead, snapping at insects and investigating every rustle she heard in the underbrush. That trip eventually became part of our daily routine, and when I started taking my guitar along, she would stare at me with tilted head, listening attentively while I sang and played.

  One side benefit of Hope’s positive influence on my state of mind was that it put an end to the constant parade of visitors. Not only was I no longer showing signs of depression, Ellie said the demands of the foundation and the rapid expansion of Millennium Park had everyone working eighty-hour weeks just to keep things on track. Consequently, I rarely saw any of them, even Ellie. She did, however, call occasionally to check on me and see how the puppy was doing. I had managed to convince her not to wake me with her calls, but one morning in early spring, the phone rang before sunrise, and I knew it had to be her.

  “You sitting down?” she said when I answered.

  “No,” I said. “It’s five in the morning. I’m sleeping. What happened to your promise not to wake me?”

  “Sorry, but I thought you might want to hear this sooner rather than later.”

  “What? Another report on my supposed superstar status?”

  “A little more important than that.”

  The chuckle in her voice peaked my curiosity. “I give up,” I said.

  “Okay. I actually have two things to report. Both good, I think.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah. One for sure. The other … well, it’s going to complicate things a little for us is all. I just got the results of my first ultrasound.”

  “What?” I said, as my sleep-fogged brain tried to process this.

  “Ultrasound, Dad. You know, fuzzy pictures of the baby in my tummy? You’re gonna be a grandpa.”

  Still confused, all I could manage was a weak, “Grandpa?”

  “Yep,” she said. “It’s a girl, and we’re going to name her after Mom.”

  As my mind began to clear, I remembered that morning long ago, when Doris and I were discussing possible names for our unborn child. “That’s … That’s fantastic!” I said, trying to hide the quaver in my voice. “I don’t think I ever told you, but your mom wouldn’t let me name you after her. So this is … Wow! This is great! When? I mean, do you know—“

  “I’m two months along, so she should be popping out around the middle of November.”

  “You mentioned something about complications,” I said. “Is everything alright?”

  “Everything’s fine, Dad. A little morning sickness, but that’s normal. What I meant was this is going to involve a lot of changes for us. Jackson will have to cut back on touring, and we’ll probably need to hire a nanny. But we’re both really happy.”

  “So am I, honey. So am I. And I can help, too, you know? Anything. Just say the word.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll be taking you up on that. Now, are you ready for the second news bulletin?”

  Still trying to get control of my emotions, I forgot we were on the phone and answered with a nod. After a moment of silence I realized she couldn’t see me, so I coughed to dislodge the wad of gunk in my throat and said, “Sure.”

  Okay, then.” She said. “Hold on to your hat. The real reason I called so early is because we got a message from Aurie. It came in about an hour ago. I would have called sooner, but it was a little scrambled, and Sam just finished cleaning up the static and interference.”

  For a moment, I was unable to speak.

  “Dad?” she said. “Are you still there?”

  I filled my lungs and breathed out a raspy, “Yeah.”

  “Good,” she said. “Now I don’t want you to get too excited. It’s not much, really, just a few choppy sentences. I was hoping for—”

  “Ellie!” I shouted. “Forget the qualifiers and read the damn thing!”

  “You don’t have to yell. Just give me a second. Okay, here it is … ‘Hope this gets through. Still many problems, but making some progress. Repairs going slow. Have to shut down to continue them. Expect long gaps between communications. Keep fingers crossed. Love to all.’

  “That was it. Pretty cryptic,
but at least it’s something.”

  “Damned right it is,” I said. “I want a copy. A framed copy.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. By the way, how’s Chance doing? Sorry I haven’t been over lately.”

  “Growing like a weed. Chewing everything in sight. Hauling off anything that isn’t nailed down. And please stop calling her Chance. Her name is Hope!”

  Epilogue

  Hey, be careful there you two,” Jackson yelled. We were watching our kids climb on the monkey bars at the Millennium Park playground, and Juju was holding Doris’s legs, trying to help her swing from rung to rung on the overhead ladder.

  “Can’t get over how fast Doris is growing,” I said. “By the way, how’s Momma? I hardly ever get to talk to her anymore, what with the Foundation in full swing and all the new construction here at the park.”

  “Don’t feel like the Lone Ranger,” he said. “I’ve had to become chief cook and bottle washer lately. Ellie can’t even get away to join me on the road anymore. Thank God for Janet.”

  My old secretary had become my granddaughter’s nanny. And, oddly, that seemed to be working out fine. Apparently her acerbic personality had been reserved only for me.

  We watched as the two girls tired of the rigorous exercise and came over to play in the sandbox near our bench. Juju smoothed a spot in the damp sand, and, scratching with a stick, wrote, “A ' A K U L U U J J U S I.”

  Doris touched one of the letters with a finger. “What is it?” she said.

  “It’s my real name. They only call me Juju because A'akuluujjusi is so long and hard to remember. Doris gave her a confused look, so Juju wiped the sand smooth again and started writing numbers. “Okay,” she said. “Now, pay attention. This is one. This is two. This is three …”

  “Wonder if she’ll ever want to change her name,” Jackson said.

  “Don’t know,” I said. “Aurélie didn’t change hers until she turned eighteen and was legally in control of her own life. But just because Juju is the same person doesn’t mean she will do the same things Aurie did. Juju’s future was altered from the moment I adopted her, so there’s no way to know what, if anything, she’ll want to do about her name.”

  “Well, at least she doesn’t seem to have had any problem adjusting to her new life. I haven’t noticed any outward signs of sadness or depression. Is there something I’m missing?”

  “There may very well be something we’re all missing,” I said. “Juju is a strange duck. You can never know what’s going on inside that head of hers, other than a tornado of numbers and equations. That’s probably why she gets to spend more time with Ellie than you and I put together. But sad or depressed? I don’t think so. She never got along with her parents, and when I adopted her, she seemed to accept it as nothing more than a change of venue. As long as she’s got her calculator and the computer Sam built for her, she’s content. The only thing that worries me is how cold and analytical she is. Makes me wonder if she’s ever going to be able to open up and let her emotions come out.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” he said. “If I recall correctly, you had the same concerns about Ellie, and I can guarantee you they were unfounded. She may be cold and calculating on the outside, but that is definitely not the case when we’re … you know, alone.”

  “Yeah. Aurélie was the same way. A little icy at times on the outside, but that covered up a smoldering bedroom volcano. I guess that’s what half-wits like us get when they hook up with walking, talking supercomputers.”

  “Any change in their situation? Ellie doesn’t talk a lot about them, and I haven’t seen Aurie in weeks.”

  “Not much,” I said. “They’re still fighting the good fight, but it’s tough, you know? The lab complex is constantly under attack, and they often have to suspend certain operations while they make repairs and refortify their defense systems. They haven’t been using the holographic projection thing for a while now because it takes too much power, and they have to conserve wherever they can in order to keep the interdimensional printing platform up and running. Our face-to-face communications have been limited to two-dimensional telecasts, most of which are reserved for technical conferences with Sam, Ellie, and H2, so they can continue to help us duplicate their setup here at Millennium Park. That project, by the way, is really coming along. Sam’s doing some incredible stuff with the computer division, and H2 should have the accelerator ready for a test run in a few months. After that … well, who knows?”

  “Hey, Rix,” Juju hollered. “I’m hungry.”

  “Think she’ll ever start calling you Daddy?” Jackson asked.

  “Funny thing,” I said, “she used to. Actually almost right from the beginning. But her smarts got in the way of that.”

  “How so?”

  “You know how it is when you’re concentrating on writing? How you have to sort of tune the rest of the world out?”

  “Oh, sure. I’m always catching flack for that. People think you’re purposely ignoring them.”

  “Well, I don’t know if Juju thought I was ignoring her on purpose, but after a few months of trying and failing to get my attention with ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,’ one day she tried ‘Rix,’ and my head snapped around like I’d heard a gunshot. From then on ‘Daddy’ was out and ‘Rix’ was in.”

  “Does that bother you?” Juju said, tugging on my sleeve. “I can stop if you want.”

  “Doesn’t bother me at all, sweetheart,” I lied.

  Doris waddled up and laid her head on Jackson’s knee. “Looks like nap time,” he said. “Guess we’d better head out. Come ’ere and give your Uncle Jackson a hug.”

  Juju dutifully administered the hug, then came back to sit on my lap as Jackson swept Doris up in his arms. He leaned over so she could give me a goodbye kiss, and the two of them headed for the trees. When they were gone, Juju grabbed my hand and pressed it on her stomach. “Feel that?” she said. “It’s my hunger growling.”

  “Okay,” I said, pretending to be exasperated. “Let’s go see if we can find you some food. Come on, Hope. Bet you’re hungry too.”

  I’ve been wondering something, honey,” I said as Juju and I sat together on the granite diving board overlooking the stream. We’d brought a picnic lunch to what had become our favorite spot to spend time together when I was off the road and she wasn’t with Ellie or her tutors.

  “Yes?” she said in her typically brief, no-nonsense way.

  “I was just wondering if you’ve ever thought about changing your name.”

  “Why would I want to do that? I like my name. Besides, Ellie says A'akuluujjusi Voniossi rolls off the tongue like butter.”

  “Oh she does, does she?” I said, wondering if Ellie had picked that phrase up from her mother. “I don’t know. Maybe a buttered mouthful of jacks.”

  Juju looked up from her legal pad. “And what, pray tell, are Jacks? You’re not saying a mouthful of boys, are you?”

  “No, honey. Jacks are these sort of pointy star-shaped things used in a game called Jacks.”

  “I’ve never heard of that before. It’s a game?”

  “An old game. Ancient I think. Girls used to play it. I don’t even think it’s available anymore.”

  “Really? An ancient game. Sounds interesting. Does it involve numbers?”

  “Numbers?” I said, thinking back. “I guess you could say it involves numbers. I mean you have to count the jacks. The way I remember it, you bounce a little rubber ball and try to pick up a certain number of jacks before you catch the ball again. Something like that. You could look it up in the Encyclopedia program if you want to know more.”

  “Mmmm,” she said. “Maybe I will.” She leaned back against Hope, who woke with a snuffle, then relaxed again, closing her eyes and slapping her tail on the smooth rock. “So, what you’re saying is that my name sounds like someone spitting out a bunch of pointy star things. Do you really think I should change it?”

  I thought for a moment, then realized I should
n’t even have brought it up. “Hey,” I said, “it’s no big deal. Forget I said it, okay? Tell you what, I’ll see if I can find you a set of Jacks. Maybe one of the toy stores in Atlanta still carries them.” I reached out and ruffled her kinky mop of hair.”

  “Stop it, Daddy,” she whined.

  “Sorry, pumpkin, I …” That ‘Daddy’ had hit me like a punch in the chest.

  “You what?”

  “I … Uh … Give me a second here. Got something caught in my throat.” I worked hard at coughing up the non-existent throat blockage, then grabbed a napkin to wipe my eyes. “I know you hate it when I do that,” I finally managed to croak. “I’m sorry I keep forgetting. Guess it’s because your hair looks so much like Aurélie’s. That reminds me, we need to get over to the lab. She’s going to be coming up on the viewer in about an hour, and we don’t want to miss her.”

  “Okay,” she said. She sat up and retrieved her legal pad. “Just let me finish this one equation. Why don’t you play something on the guitar? It helps me concentrate. Maybe that one you wrote for Aurie?”

  “Again?” I said

  “Yes, please, Daddy,” she said in a world-weary voice.

  “Again.”

  Song Lyrics

  Robin’s Song

  (© 1975 Rix Vaughn)

  Robin’s song

  Is music from the lady’s fingers

  Whispering for me to linger

  Telling me how, if only for now

  I can learn to sing it

  Robin’s song

  Is honey from the tender rosebuds

  Loving in a veil of soapsuds

  Making a man

  From a few grains of sand

  And I know I’ve loved before

  Given all I can

  I’m only just a man

  But I‘ve given so much more

  Than anyone could know

  To make this feeling grow . . .